


Hold Your Family Close

by Selene_Dreamwalker



Category: Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Crying, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hugging, Rage Venting, but he did it on purpose so it's okay, lighting is not crying delete that tag, okay so lighting pretty much uses Snow as a punching bag, only he wasn't quite expecting her to be so violent, which is his fault because he should've
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selene_Dreamwalker/pseuds/Selene_Dreamwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she puts herself into her long crystal sleep, Lighting has someone to visit. Her only remaining family. She means to have only a quick discussion, maybe punch the fool Serah loved once or twice. She's not quite prepared for what does happen. </p><p>This is not SnowxLight. They make a gorgeous couple, I admit, but here it is strictly brother & sister. No sexytimes, as you might have surmised from the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Your Family Close

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my dear Readers. I've got a new one for you. There's a small bit of story, to this one. I was browsing Deviant Art, minding my own business, calmly ogling all the gorgeous artwork, when I come across these pictures, which seemed to almost string along into a story. As I went to comment, I wrote out that story in the comment box. Then decided maybe I ought not to do that, and hey, I've got accounts on FF and AO3 for a reason, do I not? So, in bold and underlined below was the gist of the idea. Then I wrote it out in more detail. All from Snow's POV.
> 
> Before Lightning took a crystal nap, she went to visit her sister's fiance in person. They got to talking, and as per usual, Snow hits the issue right at it's tender bleeding heart, and Lightning, as per usual when Snow annoys/irritates/pisses her off, swings at him. Only, it's not annoyance/irritation/anger, it's full out GRIEF, and she's going in for a hell of a lot more than just bruising him. He doesn't quite realize that at first, but soon catches on, going strictly on the defensive, waiting for her to get it all out, and getting a hell of a work out at the same time, because she's a lot better at fighting than he remembers. Finally, it peters out from anger-grief to blankness-grief and they just stand there, panting from the fight. Snow's too tired and shocky to be crying, yet, so his eyes are dry. Lightning, however, is physically blank of all emotion except for the fact her eyes are streaming tears as her breathing calms. Once both of them are just standing there, looking at each other, Lighting just walks over to him, leans her forehead against his chest and more or less collapses. He, outwardly calm but freaking the fudge out on the inside, just goes down with her, kneeling where they stood, holding her while she shakes, and salt water comes from her eyes unbidden, and she makes no sound.
> 
> And this spelled itself out in greater detail, I felt like I had no input. I love that feeling, like I'm just a medium though which a story is being told, like my hands are doing someone else's work. It's fantastic, my best stuff happens that way.
> 
> Without further ado, I present this. I hope it wrings your heart out like it did mine, once I went back and read what I wrote.

~O~O~O~

There's the sounds of a village around them, and the faint ambiance of nature in the distance, but all is still in the little clearing Snow had left for once he'd gotten the news. Slowly, he replayed the events of the last hour or so, not quite believing they'd happened. Lightning had appeared out of nowhere in a blinding white light (wearing frankly  _beautiful_  armor, he was tempted to ask the blacksmith's name), taken one look at his face and realized he knew already. They'd stilled a moment in silence before he started the conversation; he wasn't one who'd ever let silence stand when it wasn't necessary, and he thought it might do her some good if she took a swing or two at him. It had before, and he felt he deserved it anyway. He should've- No. Not yet. It was too raw, just yet, for him to be flaying that wound and rubbing salt in it.

Snow got to the heart of the issue, alright, and she did indeed take on the Angry Face he remembered fondly (if nothing else ever convinced him he was at least a little masochistic, repeatedly provoking a touchy Lighting he  _knew_  would punch him out was a clear enough sign), if perhaps a bit more intensely than he recalled. However, after the fifth swing her hand went to her sword (and the Angry Face evolved into the Snarling Face, which he'd only ever seen directed at enemies and people who threatened, or made the  _suggestion_  of threat, to Serah), which is when he formed his own sword out of ice on sheer  _instinct_. Looking his sister (and she was his sister, dammit, marriage be  _damned_ ; he loved her like one and that was all that mattered, not that he'd ever spell that out to her. She might combust from excess of emotion and he was too awkward to get it right anyway) in the face was when he clued in that this wasn't standard touchy-sis-poke-her-punch-him-stalk-off-huffily-while-he's-down behavior. She wasn't aiming to kill him, per se, but she was very much in a killing rage and he was a convenient outlet. Exactly what he intended while being not at all what he was expecting.

Well,  _shit_.

She was better than he remembered, and she'd been pretty damn good then. He shied away from thinking about how  _that_  could've happened, just now. He didn't really have time to spare for introspection, he realized as he dodged a swipe of her blade that had nearly gotten his jugular (maybe a literal hair between it and his neck, maybe less. The hairs on the back of his neck rose in reaction regardless). He was on the defensive, and he couldn't really attack back, that might trigger her to  _actually_  try to kill him on blind reflex. He resolved to wait out her wrath. It wasn't as if he had a wealth of other options.

It was true, too. Eventually, her anger exhausted itself, and she stood woodenly before him. Before everything, becoming l'Cie, traversing and cavorting all over Cocoon and Pulse, when she wore no emotion he could still see the steel, the  _determination_ , the  _drive_ , in her. He'd admired and respected her because of it. Now, she stood empty and tired, not even noticing the tears that ran freely down her too-pale cheeks. Time passed, how much he didn't know, and one moment all was still, the next she was striding towards him, nothing like her usual confident march/hip-swinging (he was taken and in love, not dead. Lightning was a knockout, without a doubt  _gorgeous_  woman, just very much NOT his type). It was a listless, graceful glide that seemed almost  _inhuman_ , and it startled him enough that he didn't leap away, as his still singing nerves might've told his battle-ready body. He was glad of that when all she did was lean her forehead on his chest.

They stood a moment in what wasn't really stillness, just a breath of non-movement, then she dropped her sword (?!), brought her hands up and fisted them in his jacket (?!), and collapsed into his arms (!). He supported her weight (the armor weighed more than she did, he thought, and that was a concerning thing all on its own) for a beat, then his own exhaustion caught up to him and they both went down to their knees. Lightning seemed nearly limp in his arms, and Snow very firmly squashed the panic that wanted to take over. This wasn't unexpected, all considered. As the clear-headed one between them (which he would've found utterly alarming in any other circumstances) he rearranged them so she sat curled comfortably in his lap whilst he leaned back against a convenient rock. He tilted his head back, observing the dregs of sunset as the stars just began their nightly dance. In doing so, he wrapped his arms around the woman in his lap, holding her close. He ignored the slight trembling of her shoulders. He ignored the way she shuffled herself so her ear was pressed against his left pectoral (his heartbeat). Most of all, he ignored the growing damp spot under her face on his chest.

He just held his family close.

~O~O~O~

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all, at least for now. This was totally off the cuff, I had no plans for this. I may continue on in this vein at some point, but it's doubtful.
> 
> Lemme know what you think, my dear Readers.


End file.
